


But Then Again . . .

by Tomstinkerbell



Category: Loki - Fandom, Loki laufeyson - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor movies
Genre: Angry Loki, D/s, Dominant Loki, Erotica, F/M, Kinda, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5059567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is pissed at Loki, and encounters that same side of him - which she hasn't had to deal with before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Then Again . . .

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW! (although pretty tame, consdering, really)
> 
> Something I'd forgotten I'd written, found crumpled up in a corner of my computer, probably never really meant to see the light of day.

"What the fuck are you doing back here? I thou -"

You had heard a rumor that he was back and storm into the bedroom you share with him without knocking, without even bothering to close the door once you'd burst through it, propelled forward by anger fueled by righteous indignation, not caring in the least who heard or saw you arguing with him.

But you instantly come to realize - with no small amount of trepidation that is so foreign to how you usually interact with him that it takes your breath away and keeps it - that it is not your Loki who turns slowly around to glare back at you from beneath a heavily drawn brow. This is Prince Loki of Asgard - the God himself - standing there in all of his deliberately intimidating, blatantly masculine, uniformed glory, looking back at you in manner that is just to the wrong side of the line between sane and crazy - in a way that he's never before subjected you to. You've seen him look that way at others, but never you. Gone was the loving, almost too gentle lover you had come to know, and in his place is a distant, aloof, damned close to omnipotent being who was used to having his own way, and who seemed very intent on having it with you right this minute.

That look alone was more than potent enough to cause you to stop talking mid-sentence - mid-word, in fact - and, for the first time since you'd met him, abruptly begin backing away from him as he advances menacingly towards you - closing the gap between you with devastating speed as he makes sure you can hear the door slam shut behind you and the bolt being thrown, even as he continues to bear down on you, and you begin to wonder just how quickly you can back up.

"You forget to whom you are speaking, woman," he snarls. Although he isn't yelling, the words still seem to be bellowed, and you can feel them reverberating threateningly in your ears and the air around you and in your very bones.

Which, you are horrified to realize, are now held completely immobile. You cannot move, cannot look away from the discomfiting sight of him. 

"I shall take great pains to correct that fault shortly."

As he closes in on you at bit more slowly, his hand comes up and you can see him lazily flick a finger occasionally - flick - your vest is opened - flick - your blouse is unbuttoned - flick - your bra is somehow severed in the front and hanging uselessly, such that your overly generous breasts are now completely uncovered, bared to his lascivious stare, causing that tongue you know the touch of so well to venture out to wet his lips, where there is absolutely no trace of his usual welcoming smile. 

And in much slower motions that he was obviously savoring - along with how he was amping up your fear - you feeling the zipper of your jeans being lowered, and your panties are ripped from you, pulled right out of your pants as you watch it happening to yourself - too paralyzed by this unfamiliar fear of him to do anything to stop their loss even if he hadn't been holding you immobile - seeing them fly through the air to him, where he grabs the tiny handful of their delicate lace into his big fist and buries his nose in them, eyes drifting slowly closed, as if he's inhaling an incredibly intoxicating drug, then lifting that heavy head of his to catch your eyes and treat you to a malevolently self-satisfied grin that said in no uncertain terms that he could have simply thought it so and you would have been nude before him - Lord knows he'd done that often enough before. 

But he was taking his time, toying with you purely for his own enjoyment.

Although, to your deep humiliation, it wasn't just his.

You can only watch - the defenseless prey to his skilled predator - as the panties disappear from his hand but it remains there in front of him as he turns it palm up, long, slim fingers shaping into a shallow cup. 

And suddenly, you can feel those fingers at your bare cleft, as if your pants - molding themselves to every inch of that soft, intimate territory as if it was actually there, and you can do nothing but watch as another unrecognizably horrible smile spreads gradually over his face, and you are forced to watch that hand as it pantomimes exactly how he is touching you at the same time he's making you feel that he is touching you there. With no real preamble, you both experience and see him plunging two fingers into the air - into you - nearly making you collapse from the powerful pleasure but held fast for his invasion, watching the forceful, sharp movements as he fucks you with them, seeing and feeling him switch from two to three fingers that he then forces inside you abruptly, drawing an involuntary guttural groan from the back of your throat as you are stretched suddenly wide open, filled with and by him, and by nothing at the same time.

And he's not at all content to simply fuck you. Other phantom parts of him beginning to maraud through those sensitive folds, touching, pushing, pressing, dragging rough tips from front to back and back again, more fingers surrounding your clit and trail back and forth over it with relentless - if languorous - precision all while you are held still, helpless to stop him from doing this - from doing any of this - to you.

As all of that nearly unbearable stimulation continues unabated, Loki steps forward and reaches you finally, the neat ponytail that's been holding your hair away from your face disappears, and he wraps the whole, glorious hank of your hair around his forearm, using it to yank your head violently back and ravish you with a kiss that demands your complete acquiescence, and, although you consider yourself to be a strong woman, you can feel your will being inexorably bent to his.

And, to your dismay, although you are still mentally railing against it, you don't not like how he's handling you.

When he lets go of you all of a sudden, the transparent bonds that held you in place for him broken all at once, you stumble back and are rudely slammed up against the wall by more invisible hands, arms imprisoned above you by nothing, legs spread uncomfortably wide and held there - again, by nothing but his mere desire to have you like this.

You are unwillingly mesmerized as that innocent looking hand of his - that still isn't actually touching you - sets invisible mouths to your heaving breasts and already painfully peaked nipples, as well as what starts out as one but quickly becomes two fingers at your back door, which seat themselves firmly within you, too, and begin a counterpoint rhythm to those in your already occupied pussy, all while he never stops strumming even more fingers lazily over your clit, and - within a humiliatingly short amount of time - has you writhing to his merciless tune - or trying to and not getting very far - your ragged breath billowing out of you, well on your way to your first orgasm.

In a last ditch effort to stop him, you open your mouth to protest - however belatedly. "Loki, let me go. We need to ta - "

"Silence!" he barks. The only other move he makes is to arch an eyebrow at you. 

Suddenly, you can't talk any more. At least, your mouth will no longer form intelligible sounds. Instead, the angry words you were going to say were replaced by moans and mewls of unutterable pleasure - the very ones he must've known you'd been doing your best to suppress.

And he even tires of that quickly, so you find your mouth full of something - not your own panties - but something not too unlike them - and suddenly, somehow, you realize with a start what they are.

The green silk nut huggers you'd given him for Christmas the first year you were together.

Before you realized that Loki only ever goes commando.

That Loki is, indeed, the very epitome of the term.

He takes a few agonizingly slow steps towards you, until he's close enough that you have to swallow hard at the stark differences in your heights and sizes, especially since he is in his full regalia and you are, suddenly now, dangerously nude in front of this lustful madman, whose tongue wets his lips again lewdly, knowing he has captured both you and your full attention as he rubs himself - full bodied - against you so thoroughly, so firmly that if you weren't being held to the wall by invisible forces his body covering yours would be more than enough to do the trick.

When he speaks, your skin breaks out in goose bumps all over, nipples blossoming even more painfully within the warm cavern of the mouths that possess them and you can't help but gasp at the raw, gravelly depth of his tone, the pure, primitive fear that it inspires within you only adding to the relentless ache his attentions carefully conjure in contrast - even against your will. 

Even this threatening posture isn't enough to slow that runaway train.

Although his deceptively soft, almost tenderly delivered words are.

"Allow me to suggest to you, mortal," he spits out the word as if it is distasteful to him, "that you do everything in your pitiful human power so that you do. not. cum." He then proceeds to drag his long, flat tongue from your collar bone all the way up the exposed column of the neck he forces you to arch awkwardly, lest he pull a handful of your hair out by the roots, leaving a hot, wet trail as he does so, until his tongue - and mouth - are just below your ear, where he growls, sending violent tremors throughout your body - "But then again, please do . . . "


End file.
